LAURA, in order to avoid his caresses, has leaned forward; her hands are clasped between her knees, and she is looking straight outward with a cold, impassive expression. WILL regards her silently for a moment.  Really in the man’s heart there is an affection, and really he wants to try to comfort her; but he seems to realize that she has slipped away from the old environment and conditions, and that he simply bought her back; that he hasn’t any of her affection, even with his money; that she evinces toward him none of the old camaraderie; and it hurts him, as those things always hurt a selfish man, inclining him to be brutal and inconsiderate. WILL crosses to centre, and stands reading paper; bell rings; a pause and second bell. WILL seizes upon this excuse to go up-stage and over towards the door.

WILL. [After second bell.] Damn that bell.

He continues on his way; he opens the door, leaves it open, and passes on to the outer door, which he opens. LAURA remains immovable and impassive, with the same cold, hard expression on her face.  He comes in, slamming the outer door with effect, which one must have at this point of the play, because it is essential to a situation coming later.  Enters the room, closes the door, and holds in his hand a telegram.  Looks from newspaper to telegram.

WILL.  A wire.

LAURA.  For me?

WILL.  Yes.

LAURA.  From whom, I wonder.  Perhaps Elfie with a luncheon engagement.

WILL. [Handing telegram to her.] I don’t know.  Here.

Pause; he faces her, looking at her.  She opens it quickly.  She reads it and, as she does, gasps quickly with an exclamation of fear and surprise.  This is what the despatch says (it is dated at Buffalo and addressed to LAURA):  "I will be in New York before noon.  I’m coming to marry you and I’m coming with a bank-roll.  I wanted to keep it secret and have a big surprise for you, but I can’t hold it any longer, because I feel just like a kid with a new top.  Don’t go out, and be ready for the big matrimonial thing.  All my love.  John."

WILL.  No bad news, I hope?

LAURA. [Walking up stage rather hurriedly.] No, no—­not bad news.

WILL.  I thought you were startled.

LAURA.  No, not at all.

WILL. [Looking at paper about where he had left off.] From Elfie? [Crosses to, and sits in armchair.

LAURA.  No, just a friend.

WILL.  Oh!

He makes himself rather comfortable in the chair, and LAURA regards him for a moment from up stage as if trying to figure out how to get rid of him.

LAURA.  Won’t you be rather late getting down town, Will?

WILL.  Doesn’t make any difference.  I don’t feel much like the office now.  Thought I might order the car and take a spin through the park.  The cold air will do me a lot of good.  Like to go?